Lay Still
by far away2011
Summary: The wife of the best detective in the world remembers her husband. LxOC


_This is the first story I've written in years so go easy on me! I don't own Death Note!  
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><p><em>Four thousand nine hundred and ninety seven, four thousand nine hundred and ninety eight, four thousand nine hundred and ninety nine, five thousand.<em>

Five thousand. I had counted five thousand specs of paint on the ceiling. I sighed and rolled over on my side. From my bed, I scanned the room for something else to count. Pieces of lint on the blanket I was laying on… Tiny lines on the hard wood floor… Socks?

I sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed to get a better view of the bedroom floor. There were socks all over. Pink socks, purple socks, yellow socks, blue socks, animal print socks. They were everywhere. They were all mine. I had dozens of pairs of socks that I wore constantly. But him… I could barely get him into a pair of sneakers before he left the apartment, let alone a pair of socks.

I looked past the socks. Candy bar wrappers. I smiled to myself. Now those were his. I can't count how many times I've woken up in the early hours of the morning to him sitting up next to me in bed, crunching loudly on a candy bar. As I glared at him with tired, angry eyes, he would shift his eyes to meet mine and would ask "would Ashley like some candy?"

If anyone else would have cut my precious hours of sleep short, I would have dismembered them. But this boy… He could have led a parade through the room and my only retaliation would be smile.

I rolled over to face his side of the bed. His single plain grey pillow lay in contrast next to my bright yellow body pillow and stuffed animals. He would sometimes comment on how it sometimes seemed as if our bed was two halves of beds belonging to two polar opposites joined together into one.

I placed my hand on his spot on the bed, hoping a little that my hand would transcend time and I would be able to feel his warmth again. It had been so long since he had taken his spot next to me in our bed. Being the wife of the best detective in the world, I had grown used to it. Whenever he became focused on a case, it was hard to get him to pay attention to anything else. There would be days, sometimes weeks, before he would join me in bed again. The cases never took him more than a few weeks to solve.

This latest case was different. This Kira Investigation. He had been working on that case nonstop for over a year, grinding himself to the core. And it was showing.

He always had bags under his eyes. The boy slept probably 3 hours a night. But lately the bags seemed like they were starting to stick out more and more against his ghostly white skin. He was getting tenser every day. When he did come home, he wouldn't sleep at all, but instead sit up in bed, hunched over in his favorite position, clenching his toes and biting his nails; lost in thought.

I would constantly beg him to take a break from work and come home to rest. I told him that he was killing himself, but he would always respond to my pleas with that ever calm, smooth voice. "Ashley should not worry about me. When I'm dead, I'll rest". I gulped just thinking back on his words. _Oh how fitting they were now._

It had been 3 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, and 7 hours since my love had left me alone in this world and there hasn't been a single second where I hadn't felt like dying along with him. I was no longer whole, perfect being but a writhing, bleeding half of a whole that would never be one again.

No one other than me seemed to care about his passing. Not even those he had working closely with for the past year seemed to really be saddened by his death. Then again, why would they? He wasn't an easy guy to get along with if you don't really know him. Only I saw past his exterior into the depths of his soul. Only I knew what made him tick. He was often cold towards others, but when we were together, I felt like I could never escape his warmth. His touch was enough to make me melt like ice in his hands. His voice was a lullaby that could soothe any worry I could ever have. I guess that's why when he assured me he'd be fine, I didn't give much protest.

I should have been with him. I would beg him to let me accompany him to work, but he would have none of it.

"If anything were to happen to Ashley during the course of the investigation, I fear I would not be able to live with myself."

I wish he wasn't so concerned about my safety. I should have been the one by his side. His last moments should have been my voice, my face, my touch. And maybe if I was lucky, Kira would have taken me too and we could have crossed into forever together.

I lay back on my pillow and stared back up at the specs of paint I had just been counting. I thought back to the last time I had heard his voice. That smooth, soothing voice. It was the day he died, just hours before it happened.

We were sitting at the small round kitchen table eating pancakes. I, however, paid no mind to the food on my plate, but to the man sitting across from me. As he slowly but surely sucked down his syrup drenched breakfast, I looked him over. The bags under his eyes were now so dark, they appeared to be drawn on with black Sharpie. His thumb and index nails (his favorites) were bitten down to the quick. My heart swelled out of worry for him.

He felt my eyes on him, and looked up to meet my eyes. He must have seen the worry in them, because he promptly picked up a strawberry from atop his half eaten mound of pancakes and tossed it in the air, catching it in his mouth. I smiled at him only because I knew it was what he wanted from me.

After breakfast, he completed the morning ritual by slipping into his sneakers, kissing me on the lips, and starting, hands in pockets, towards the door.

"Lawliet" I called after him as his hand reached for the door knob. "Wait." He halted. I never called him by his name, especially since he had started on the Kira case. He tilted his head back to look at me, and I'd expected him to get angry with me, but before he could reply, I found myself running to him. I buried my face into his soft, white shirt and wasn't able to hold back the tears.

"Don't go", I sobbed into his bony chest. "You're destroying yourself. I can't let you keep doing this to yourself. You need to rest!"

I felt his thin arms wrap around me. I looked up at his face to see him staring off into the distance. For the first time since I'd known him, I looked into his eyes and wasn't able to read what he was thinking.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly?

He didn't respond at first and I was about to ask him again when he replied, "I can hear the bells."

There was silence. I strained my ears, hoping to hear the "bells" he was referring to, but I heard nothing. "What bells, Baby?"

He finally broke his focus away from whatever he was concentrating and smiled warmly down at me. "Don't worry, Ashley", he spoke softly. "I will rest tonight."

I smiled broadly and he gave me a kiss on the forehead and pulled me closer.

I closed my eyes, as I absorbed his warmth. "I'm so glad." If I could've, I would have stayed in that position for eternity, but all of about three minutes was all I got before he pulled away from me, kissed my cheek, and left out the door.

He did rest that night. He will rest forever now.


End file.
